


If I Could Be a Worthy Man

by jesseofthenorth



Series: A Worthy Man [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cussing, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 12:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2621765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesseofthenorth/pseuds/jesseofthenorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has made a lot of mistakes in his life, he learned to live with most of them. But there are some things he's done, people he's left behind that he will never stop regretting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Could Be a Worthy Man

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by the inimitable Goneahead, the world's best cheerleader to ever wield a red pen. All remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> The slash rating barely warrants a mention for all that it affects the story. This is 99% gen with no porn/smut.

Clint Barton was having a shitty fucking day. A shitty fucking week, if he was being honest. He was beat all to hell and tired right down to his bones.

He sat on the edge of his hospital bed, exhausted, not sure if he had the energy to stand. Clint reached for his crutches not looking forward to all the steps he was going to have to make to get from SHIELD medical to his own bed. He felt like he could sleep for three days, and he probably would once he signed out of here and got his ass home. 

"You look like shit, Barton. You need a break." Clint glanced up to see Coulson looking back at him, concern clear on his usually carefully neutral face.

"Yes sir. I was thinking about maybe sleeping for the rest of the week" Clint said only half joking.

"That sounds like an excellent idea. Want a lift back to your apartment?"

Clint stared for a second before he remembered to speak in response."Sir?" 

Coulson just cocked one eyebrow "Pretty sure you aren't going to be able to drive your bike with that" he said looking pointedly at Clint's shiny new knee brace.

 

Clint sighed. "I guess not." 

"You move your crutches. I'll get your bag. We'll take my car." As if it was nothing to step in and lend Clint a hand, the same way Coulson would for a friend like Sitwell or Hill. 

Clint didn't have the energy to question it very deeply."That sounds really great, sir. Thanks." 

Coulson nodded, grabbed Clint's duffel and then waited for Clint to find his balance on the crutches. Luckily (or not) it didn't take long. This was far from Clint’s first pair of crutches.

*

Clint hadn't offered a single protest when he was informed, a couple of days after getting home, that he was officially on medical leave for at least a month. His knee was nearly wrecked and really sore. This was one of the few times he was going to be thankful for medical leave. He just had to figure out what to do with himself. A month was a long time.

He didn't sleep for the rest of the week like he'd told Coulson he might, but it was a near thing. He had been working with a sleep deficit for a while. He thought it be one of the reasons he'd got hurt so bad in the first place. It hadn't been that bad of a fall. 

He hadn't been this tired since the days just before he came to SHIELD, when he was much younger and nearing the end of his rope, defeated and alone and almost out of options. It was a different kind of weariness he was feeling now. Clint owed SHIELD a lot. But he needed time off and there was no shame in admitting it. 

He needed time away from work to regroup and recharge. Lately his entire life had centered around SHIELD and only SHIELD. Work, eat, sleep, work. The fall that had landed him in medical was at least partially caused by the fact that he hadn't had two days in row off in six months. 

The time off would at least give him a chance to sleep all he wanted.

That lasted till the end of the week. 

Then he got caught up on the backlog on his DVR. That took another three days. 

He was just contemplating whether or not he could re tile the bathroom wearing a leg brace when Clint realized … he didn't actually have to hang around New York if he didn't want to.

Natasha was away on a solo gig, Coulson was a guy with a lot of responsibilities, and Clint was a guy without a lot of ties. And beyond his connection to the job, there was really no reason for him to stay in the city. 

Clint was a guy who still liked the open road, despite all the travelling he had done with the circus. So he packed a bag, pulled his car out of long term storage and got the hell out of New York City. It’d been a long time since he been able to go where he wanted with no agenda or commitments. The idea _really_ appealed to him.

It was mostly an unconscious decision when Clint headed west, back the way he had originally come, before New York was his home.

He drove until his knee started to hurt, or until he saw a vacancy sign, or found a diner with a sign that said "PIE!" Clint didn't put a lof conscious thought into where he was going. It was almost instinctual movement. That explained, on some level, how he ended up returning to one of the few places he had ever been happy as a child. The place where his life had been beautiful, even joyful, the place where he had been young and in love. The place where he had left everything of any value to him. 

He rolled into Cedar Rapids, Iowa just before dark. It hadn't really changed much since he was 15. Not to Clint's somewhat jaded eye, any way. Downtown didn't look one bit taller or broader, still a small town city. It didn't matter to Clint, it wasn't the _city_ that he had loved. The things he had loved here weren't things. Maybe he would stay a day or two, see what he could see.

Clint found a hotel downtown, got a room while the smallest stirrings of hope, brought on by the idea of finding what he had lost, bloomed without his permission. He had left something he loved there when he was just a kid. Two somethings. He wanted suddenly, desperately, now that he was in Cedar Rapids, to see what had become of them.

He was sitting on the bed in his room, wondering where he would start his search flicking through cable channels, thinking about getting food, when his phone rang. He didn't even consider not answering. there were only two people who would bother to call him he would never miss talking to either one of them.

"What the hell are you doing in Iowa?" she asked when he answered.

"Hi Natasha. How are you, Natasha? How was Azerbaijan, Natasha?" He didn't bother asking how she knew where he was, neither of them had a lot of patience for stupid questions they both knew the answer to; It was SHIELD, they were going to keep tabs on people.

"Fine, steep, boring. What are you doing in Iowa?" He could hear the concern in her voice.

"I'm fine, Tasha. I had some time off. So I drove" he answered.

"Then it's an accident that you ended up there?" 

"I don't know about that but I didn't plan anything. I just sort of … stopped here."

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice not gentle, just quieter. She knew some of his history with the place, how hard it had been to be moved and a very small part of why. She was the only one who had a clue. She also knew how useless gentleness was.

"Yeah. I'm tired. Not just from driving either. It's just. It's been one Op after another, after another. I want to do nothing for a while. Iowa is as good a place to do that as any. 'Sides. Now that I'm here I thought I might look up an old friend. You know, from when I was a kid?"

"You're _still_ a kid." Natasha snorted at him. 

"Ha ha." Clint deadpanned "Well I'm a tired kid." He roughly scrubbed a hand over his face. "Don't worry Tash. I really am okay. I'm just gonna look around a little, see if anything looks familiar. It was a long time ago, but I have some real good memories rooted here." 

"Well that's okay then." she sounded less worried and Clint was happy for that. He was a grown man. She didn't need to worry about him. "Get some sleep Clint. Call me when you are ready to come home. Remember to check in with Coulson and let him know you're not dead."

"Yeah okay. I can do that. 'Night, Tasj." He ended the call and sat on the bed for a while thinking. He was very grateful that Natasha was not the sort of person who would push him for more, would take his word for it that everything was fine. Clint tucked his phone into his pocket and went to find a hot meal.

 

He went in search of Mrs. Lawrence the next morning. She was the best foster mother he'd ever had. He knew exactly where to find her now, but that knowledge didn't do his heart much good. 

Coming home to her house from school on a cold winter day, greeted with hot chocolate and flourless peanut butter cookies was quite possibly the best memory Clint had of his years in foster care. She was the kind of woman who cared for every kid who had ever been in her care and went the extra mile to make sure her kids knew it. 

Mrs Lawrence had been a good woman and she was always good to him, always trusting him to do and be his best. For a very long time Clint felt like he’d failed her faith in him. It was her belief in his innate goodness that had eventually lead him to SHIELD. Despite the fact that she was long gone from his life, her influence was not.

She'd been so sorry when the social worker came to collect him, but there was nothing either of them could do. Mistakes had been made and most of them were Clint's. He'd had just enough time to pack his shit and hug her goodbye before he was shipped across the state. After Clint left her place he’d made a real effort to keep in contact with her.  
He was in a group home when he sent her the first letter trying and mostly failing to tell her how grateful he was to have met her. He’d been too awkward and too embarrassed to make much sense.

It'd taken less than a week for her to write back and that had started an ongoing series of letters between the two. Clint had shared everything in his life that was remotely interesting and she’d tried her best to encourage him from a distance.  
They had carried on that way for months until one day a letter came from Mrs Lawrence's oldest daughter telling him as kindly as she could that Mrs Lawrence had died of a heart attack. She'd told him how sorry she was to have to tell him this way but his address was all she had. She'd been very insistent that he was welcome at the funeral. There was no way for him to go and Clint had regretted it ever since.

So on his first full day back in Cedar Rapids Clint went to a florist's shop and bought the biggest bouquet of tulips he could get, and went to pay his respects, eight years too late. He wandered around a while before he found her grave, but in the end he did find it. Well kept with fresh flowers, her stone sat near a tree, there was a tiny rose bush with champagne colored blooms on it planted nearby. She would've loved that, her roses were always her pride and joy, next to her 'kids'.

Clint carefully placed the flowers, and sat down on the ground to tell her all the things he wished he'd had the maturity to say when he was a boy. How grateful he was for her support through everything that happened that year, how much he appreciated her care and commitment to him even after he was out of her care. He finally told her he loved her, his heart aching with the regret of never having said that to her face, for all that it had been true.

When the sun was high in the sky, Clint wiped the tears from his face, stood and said he'd come back again. Then Clint turned to find his way out of the maze of graves.

In the end he got turned right around and ended up aimlessly wandering, trying to find the gate that lead out of the high wrought iron fence. Finally he spotted it and cut across the grass to get there. 

Clint looked at some of the graves as he walked. He knew it was a little morbid but he really couldn't help himself. The fresh headstones, simple and slick, mixed in with the worn and sometimes hugely elaborate markers were fascinating to him. He even recognized some of the surnames from when he had lived here, the old families that were part of the fabric of this town. 

That's what he was doing, letting his morbid curiosity have it's head, when, his eyes skipped over one more stone before he registered what he'd read. Clint stopped suddenly and looked back, sure it had to be wrong. His eyes tracked back and he felt the breath in his lungs seize up when he read a name he never expected to see _here_ in a million years: Nia Carpenter. 

The memory of warm brown eyes flashed through his mind, a wide mouth with an easy smile, and a laugh he would never forget, for all the joy it had always contained. The most beautiful girl he ever knew, bound up in the purest love he had ever felt.

There she was. The girl from so long ago. The one he come here hoping to find some trace of, to know if she was well. The proof that she was not, etched into marble, struck like a physical blow. The that she was not well at all, punched him in the gut hard and Clint felt his knees buckle. A strangled "NO!" was all the sound he could manage as he looked at the grave marker.

**Nia Carpenter born march 21 1972- Oct 12 1988**

She had died two days after he had been removed from Cedar Rapids by the state of Iowa. Died! Nia had died and she was barely 16. It was a horrible thought, followed by one that was even worse. What had happened to the baby? _Their_ baby.

*

Eventually Clint got himself together enough to stumble to his car and drive almost blindly back to his motel room. He sat in the car staring into space until a car horn close by snapped him out of it. Then he started the car and headed for where he remembered where the library was.

It didn't take Clint long to discover a few salient facts. An obit in a back issue of the local paper stated that poor Nia had died unexpectedly, mourned by her loving parents, no mention of a surviving child. There was no birth announcement in the paper. Cint looked everywhere he could think of for information. It didn't take him long, there wasn't much else to learn. He barely knew anyone here and the only information he really had access to was the public record and things in the local newspaper. There was much available in either source, not much _he_ could discover, at any rate.

Instead of finding the girl he had loved and the child they had made together, all Clint found was a space that would now forever remain empty. And a mystery he didn't know how to solve. Where was the baby she had been carrying when Clint was taken away?

Nia, beautiful, sweet, always so loving, Nia was dead and there was no sign of a baby anywhere. As much as the idea horrified Clint, there wasn't even a grave beside hers. In fact there was no grave anywhere in Cedar Rapids for a baby born around the date on Nia's grave. Clint had checked, because he couldn't bear the thought of not knowing if that had been their child's fate. He found nothing. 

By the end of the second week Clint had exhausted his abilities as an investigator. He was forced to admit there was nothing he could do and he was out of time. His leave with SHIELD was almost up and he was expected back for a medical check in. 

He thought briefly of saying fuck it and just dropping off the radar to look, but the only life he had now, the only stability he had, was tied up in SHIELD. He didn't have anything else going for him. He had no where else to go and there was no where else to look, for now. Clint got in his car and turned it east. Home, such as it was.

He drove in a half blind daze, exhausted and heart sick and terrified that what he knew then, would be as much as he would ever know. If the car hadn't been one of only a few things in the world that he owned, Clint would have ditched it and flown back just to avoid all the time he had to think. The long hours he spent behind the wheel did him no good. Too much time to think meant time to relive the utter powerlessness of being a fifteen year old foster kid all over again. Clint could not stop remembering the way he'd felt when he found out he was being moved hundreds of miles away and would not see his kid or the girl he loved, the utter helplessness it had engendered. 

Those feelings were nothing compared to the hollow pit that opened in his stomach every time he'd ever thought of the Nia's smile and the baby in her belly the last time he'd seen her. The baby he’d helped to create. Like the phantom pain of a severed limb, sneaking up on him, a dull ache in an empty space every time he thought of them. Until he had stopped thinking of them in self defense. 

It was only in the last few years he'd had enough control over his life to change any of it. That was, after all, why he'd returned to Cedar Springs, no matter what bullshit he'd pedalled Nat about it being a half accident. He'd known, in the back of his mind, where he was going, and why when he'd left New Jersey he'd headed west.

And now it was all too late. The worst part, in some ways, was that even if he'd got his emotional shit together sooner it wouldn't have made one bit of difference. She had been dead all this time.

Clint had no idea what he was going to do, beyond coming back to New York by almost exactly the same route that he'd left. His leg was a lot less fucked up but Clint was even more tired than when he left. The difference now was the leaden weight that had wrapped itself around his heart. It was bad enough that he was never going to see Nia's face again, but not being able to find any trace of Nia's (his) baby was even more terrible. At least he knew where Nia _was_. Clint didn't know if his kid was a boy or a girl, did not even know if the baby had lived. 

The absence of a grave lead him to believe the kid was alive, but there was a big difference between belief and knowledge. Clint didn't know anything about the fate of his kid, but he was going to find out.

2

"How was Iowa, Barton?" was all Coulson said when he got back to work a couple of days later. Clint wasn't even shocked that apparently everyone at SHIELD knew where he had been.

"It sucked." Clint answered following Coulson to his office.

"Oh? Why was that?" Coulson asked distractedly while he read through the folder he was carrying and opening his office door at the same time.

"Nothing really left for me there." Clint muttered and took the briefing packet Coulson handed him. 'Time to get back to work' he thought with a sigh. He could admit that his head wasn't really all the way there at the moment. Medical had cleared him though, so Clint gave himself a shake and opened the packet. He had a job to do, an important job, one where people depended on him and put their safety and their lives in his hands. He had to get his head back in the game. At least when there was an Op.

"What have we got, sir?" he asked and let the information Coulson gave him take over the focus of his mind. He very carefully began the process of separating his private life from his job. It was the first time it had ever taken a conscious effort. It was not the last.

*

"You're different. Since you came back from Iowa." Coulson observed. He didn't add anything else, just let the statement hang.

Clint didn't really know what he was supposed to say. Also he was kind of hiding on top of an apartment building in the dark. He didn't say anything, just waited for something to happen.

Later, Coulson sat across from him in the mess tent, setting down a coffee and a plate full of glazed donuts. He looked at Clint. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Clint snorted. "Nothing to talk about. I can still do my job." He resented the defensiveness in his tone almost as he did the implications he heard in Coulson's.

"I don't doubt that for a moment, Clint. I just thought you might want someone to talk to, with Natasha away. My mista-" 

Clint reached for his arm to stop Coulson from leaving. "Wait!. Wait." Clint asked. "Sorry. I just-. I didn't think you meant that personally. I thought you were speaking as my superior."

"I can be your superior and a friend, Barton. We're allowed to be friends." Coulson's tone was flat as if he expected Clint to laugh in his face or tell him to fuck off.

"I know that sir." Clint said, knowing it wasn't really an answer. He took a breath. "I could actually use a friend right now." 

Coulson looked at him for another second before obviously coming to a decision. He sat back down where he’d been, picked up his almost cold coffee. "So. What happened?"

Clint didn't tell him everything. Most of it was still too raw and it wasn't in his nature to bare his soul., Mostly he talked about going back to Iowa and how if felt to get smacked in the face with all the memories of being a powerless kid again. Even without most of the details Coulson seemed to get it

 

*

It was hard to do anything from a thousand miles away but Clint never considered giving up. He searched on his own for months, between missions. Scouring through any material he could find online. He found nothing. It wasn't really that surprising. Clint had little time off, there was no chance in hell of physically searching through records, and he was shit with computers so he no chance of tracking down anything useful online. 

He thought briefly of asking SHIELD for help, Coulson would probably have some ideas there. But that would have meant involving other people and lead to questions, and things he didn't want to talk about being known. Clint had no doubt that if he used any SHIELD resources (including personnel) in his search that it would end up in his file and possibly being used against him at some point. So that was a whole world of no, right there. 

He was immensely grateful to know that his confession to Coulson was between friends. The fact that Phil Coulson was a man of integrity was beyond dispute, so what they had talked about was going to stay that way: between friends.

It was frustration at finding absolutely nothing useful in the search for the fate of his child that lead Clint to pouring through a copy of the Cedar Rapids phone book, a sort fucked up last ditch bedtime story. Sometimes, on the nights when he was back at his apartment and couldn't sleep, Clint would pour through it. He'd start wherever he'd left his bookmark, going through alphabetically, looking for names of people they both knew, or anything that might help. It was a sad excuse for a search, a search he knew he was failing at. It was his last desperate idea.

Sometimes he would just open it to a random page, and read, flipping around hoping inspiration would happen, or something would click in his head. Which was exactly what happened. Sort of. He had turned to a random page in the yellow pages and the first thing that leapt out at him was a series of listings for Private Investigators. There it was, in bold type, a solution so simple Clint kind of wanted to bang his head against a wall for not thinking of it a hell of a lot sooner.

There were over a dozen listed. It only took Clint a day or two on the phone to settle on an agency that could help. He talked to a few, leaving his information and what he was looking for. He spoke to a couple of investigators who called back, and finally settled on someone who felt right. A man named Gil Samson who ran a smallish agency, had been a state police officer before deciding he wanted to help people a different way. It might have seemed foolish, but Clint had a good feeling about the guy. He went with his gut and hired the man.

The truly shocking thing was how little time it took them to find what he was looking for.

Nia Carpenter had given up a baby for adoption the day the child was born. A boy she had named Niall. Father unknown, the report said. It was like the worst gut punch of his life to read that on the copy of the baby's birth certificate Gil Samson had forwarded to him.

"Clint, the next step is going to require more work. Because Niall is a minor and you’re not listed as the father on his birth certificate, the process becomes more complex."

"If this is about money… well I make a lot of money and I got nothing else to spend it on. And even if I had next to nothing, I would still use it all for this." Clint paused to pull in a shaky breath and try to quell some of the emotion in his voice. "He's my son. And I never gave him away, he was taken from me. I was taken from _him_. " He swallowed again. "I just want to know if he's okay. If the people who adopted him are good people and if they love him."

"I understand, Clint. I do. And I can assure you, I want to do everything I can to at least give you some peace of mind. But I want you to be prepared for what comes next because it's going to be harder. And it will take longer."

"Okay." Clint said his hand gripping the phone tightly " What do we have to do?"

"Well I think it's time you hired an Iowa lawyer, one who can represent you here."

"I'm gonna have to go to court."

"You will, at the very least, have to petition the court for information. And you may have to do more than that, because you are not listed on the birth certificate."

"What ever it takes." Clint said without hesitation. "Just tell me what to do. How do I find a good lawyer there?"

"I already have someone in mind." Gil told him. "She’s very good, and she specializes in family law. I think you will like working with her, and I know she will do her absolute best for you."

 

"Good. That's - good. How do I contact her?"Clint asked.

 

Chloe Tanner, Clint's Iowa lawyer turned out to be as tenacious as a pitbull and twice as smart as anyone Clint had ever met. And she cared. She worked hard to gain access to information about Niall Carpenter. On the few occasions when Clint became discouraged, she gave the best fucking pep talks on the planet. "Clint I am going to keep after this until I get what you need. I know it's hard, but you need to know how hard I am working for you and you need to know I’m never going to give up."

"But. What if- what if he's better off not knowing me? I mean. I. I'm kind of a fuck up right?"

"Are you going to try to take him away from a stable home if he has one?"

"What!? NO! I just want to be sure he's okay!"

"That's all we are going to ascertain. We don't need to do anything else.You want to know if your kid is okay and happy and loved? And Gil and I are going to find that out for you. Hang in there Clint. We’re going to get you the information you need. You can decide later if you want to do anything with it."

By the end of every one of those conversations Clint felt better, renewed in a way. It made the wait and the uncertainty a lot easier to take, knowing this smart, dogged woman was doing her best for him. Knowing that she understand at least a little how miserable he felt about losing the child he had never given up.

Clint had flown out to meet with her and Gil a half dozen times since she'd been brought on board. He talked with one or both of them at least a couple of times a month. In fact he had the calls scheduled regularly in his phone, just so he could touch base with them without turning into a fucking pest.

*

Six days before their next scheduled call, Chloe called him and it went straight to voicemail while he was on the range running through a standard target practice. He saw the call when he headed for the lockers. He didn't even bother to shower before he called her back.

"Hey Chloe. What's up?"

"We found him, Clint. I think you need to come out here."

Clint didn't hesitate "I'll be on the next flight out."

 

*

"Sir? Do you have a minute?" Clint asked stepping into Coulson's office. When he got a nod Clint continued " I need some personal leave."

"Oh? When?" Coulson asked looking up from his computer.

"Immediately" Clint answered trying to keep his impatience in check. He needed to get _going_.

"For how long?" Coulson asked typing something.

"I don't know. Extended." Clint checked his watch. He still needed to grab a bag and make it to the airport.

"Barton, you have a mission scheduled in two days" Coulson reminded him, frowning.

"Yes sir i know. I can't go. Take Hanson. He's a good shot and cool under pressure."

"I am aware of that Barton. But it's your rotation" he said, clearly dissatisfied with Clint's answer.

"Yes sir, but I have something I have to take care of."

"Hmm. Well you can submit the necessary paper work-"

"With all due respect sir; my flight leaves in four hours. I need emergency leave or I need to quit. Either way, I am getting on that plane."

Coulson looked at him as cool and calm as ever but Clint couldn't miss the calculating look in his eye.

"Why dont you have a seat and fill me in."

 

"Look, sir, with all due respect, I don't really have time to get into all the gory details. How about you just say yes so I can get going."

 

"Clint. If this is a legitimate request, I have no intention of denying you. I need to know what's going on." 

It was really hard to argue with Coulson when he was being all reasonable and concerned and shit. "It's kind of complicated, sir."

"Well how about you bare-bones if for me, while I get started on the paper work."

 

Clint sighed. He didn't see how he could refuse without being an asshole and possibly making this even more complicated.

He closed his eyes, and started to talk. "When I was 15 years old I got the girl I was in love with pregnant. A few days before she was due to have the baby the department of human services removed me from the foster home I was living in and moved me across the state. Nia- the girl I - the girl, gave birth to a baby boy, which she immediately gave up for adoption." Clint took a breath and carried on without once looking at Coulson. "She killed herself three days later." Clint blinked a few times, trying to clear his eyes, and finally just closed them so he could carry on. "I didn't know any of that last part happened until I went back to Iowa last year, when I wrecked my knee. I mean, I knew her Dad was really pissed. He really fucking hated me. but. I- I think he made her give up the baby." 

Clint felt a terrible aching sadness twist around in his chest, thinking about all the plans he'd made with Nia for when the baby was born. Plans he had known at the time were probably doomed, but had been powerless to stop making. He'd hoped for so much back then. 

Clint drew in a breath and carried on. "I needed to find out what happened to the baby, after I found out what happened to Nia. So I hired a Private Investigator, long story short….ish. They found him. And my lawyer just called and said I need to go back to Iowa. Right. Now."

Coulson was looking at Clint than "Him?"

"Him. She called him Niall. I-. My name isn't on his birth certificate, but he's my kid. And my lawyer says I need to get my ass back to Iowa. Sir. Please. I need to go."

Coulson nodded, hit a couple of buttons on his keyboard and turned around to pull a sheaf of papers out of his printer. When he turned back to Clint, Coulson had a pen in his hand " Sign at every X. Call me when you land. Let me know if you need any help. With anything, Barton. You need help, you call."

Clint had never been so grateful for Coulson's no bullshit, unflappable calm in their entire history together.

3

Flying to Iowa was miserable. The flight itself was fine but Clint was keyed up and terrified. And stuck in economy. He barely had time to throw some shit in a duffel before racing to Newark. He made it through check in and security, the last person to board on the only available flight for the next three days. And in the mad rush there was no time to call Chloe or Gil and get more details.

The flight that lifted off out of Newark bound for Cedar Rapids, with a change in Chicago, was also the shortest flight he could get. It felt like forever, instead of the four and a half hours it actually was. Well okay five hours fifteen minutes because when was the last time a flight was on fucking time?

Clint was almost ready to shake apart by the time he disembarked. It was 3:30. He pulled out his phone and called Chloe while hailing a cab. "I'm here." He said. "Where do you need me to be?" Clint listened, then gave the cabby the address of her office. He tried to remember to breathe on the ride over. It was all he dared think about, the slow in and out, clearing his thoughts the way he'd learned to on an Op. He needed a clear mind when he got there, so he could properly take in information and retain it.

 

Gil was already there when Chloe's assistant showed Clint into her office. There was a moment, just after the door closed behind him, when Clint was convinced that they were there together because they were about to deliver the worst possible news. Gil must have seen it on his face because he quickly stepped forward and spoke. "It's all right, Clint. He's okay! We found him and I can assure you that he's fine."

Clint let the breath he didn't know he was holding rush out, as he fell into the nearest chair.

"So tell me what's going on. Something’s not right or you wouldn't have wanted me here so soon."

Chloe looked at him for a second. She knew Clint well enough by now to just tell him what ever it was."We found him and he's in foster care. He has been for four months, ever since his family was killed in a car accident."

"Holy shit."Clint whispered.

Chloe slid a file across the desk and Gil started to speak "His name is Niall Hall. He was adopted by the Halls when he was two days old. We think Nia's father had it all set up ahead of time. They were, by all reports, a decent and stable family that loved and cared for him very well. On the last day of school they were all going out for ice cream to celebrate his little brother's graduation from kindergarten and Niall's completion of fourth grade. The family car was sideswiped by a delivery truck with failed brakes. Niall was the only survivor. There is no other family to take him in."

Clint listened,trying to read the file while Gil talked, but the words on the page jumped and then were blurred by a rush of sudden tears. He heard a phantom voice, decades old, " _I'm sorry boys, your parents aren't coming back. You need to come with us._ " Clint shook the voice away and looked at Chloe.

"I want him. I. I want to _see_ him, and see that he is okay. And then I want to get him out of that foster home." Clint glanced down at the file "Jesus christ, _group home_! I want him out of there!" 

"Clint. It's not going to be that easy." Chloe said.

"I didn't say it would be easy, but it _is_ real simple. I want my son, jesus, my son, out of the group home he is in. And I want him. With me." Clint folded his arms across his chest and waited for them to start throwing arguments at him.

It didn't quite go like that.

"Okay." Chloe said "That's what I- we-" she nodded at Gil too "expected you to say. I am sure you are well aware that there are some obstacles in the way. So while you were flying in, Gil and I came up with a plan that will probably work. Plus there is the fact that if we can prove biology-" 

Clint interrupted "We can! I will give my blood right in this fucking office to to prove it!" but Chloe kept right on talking.

"Then we can prove that you never severed your parental rights and therefore have primary claim over the boy. His adoptive parents had no other family, which means the state of Iowa is the only other conceivable claimant. So, here's what we need to do."

An hour later, Clint was fully apprised of a very workable plan.

"Are you going to be able to do all of this? Are you willing to change your life that much?" Chloe challenged, not unkindly.

"Anything." Clint told her, fierce and completely determined "I will do anything I need to. I want him out of foster care. Now. When can I see him? Even if they won't let me talk to him. I just want to see his face."

"We have an appointment with his caseworker tomorrow afternoon. Do you have a motel, yet?"

Clint shook his head.

"I have a guest room, if you want it." Chloe offered. Clint shook his head again. "Figured not" she went on. " We booked you a decent room not far from here. Go, get settled, do as much of that as you can tonight" she said handing him the list they'd made "Make sure to eat and get a good nights sleep. You have a busy day tomorrow."

*

Clint made his first call as soon as he was checked in. "Sir. This is Barton. You said to call when I landed.To call if I needed anything I should call."

*

The meeting with Niall's case worker was less successful than had Clint hoped. She flat out refused to allow him any access to Niall, at all. No room for argument. Clint did what Chloe wanted and kept his mouth firmly shut. 

_"I know how much you want to see him, Clint, god knows I do, but do yourself a favor and do NOT piss this woman off. Remember, she is trying to protect him"_ Chloe had told him before they went into their meeting

"I'm sorry Mr…. Barton but it's not possible. I can't allow it. It is my job to see that he is safe, and I don't know you. I also have absolutely no proof that your are, in fact, his father. You are not listed on his birth certificate and do not even live in this state. I would be entirely remiss if I allowed you any access, at this point ." She closed the file that’d been open on her desk. 

Clint felt all kinds of arguments bubbling up in his throat, but one quick look at Chloe made him bite them down. She looked determined, but not in the least defeated. Besides this woman was right, and he was glad she was looking out for Niall, as far as that went. He kept his mouth shut and let Chloe do the talking.

"That is excellent news. Mr Barton's primary concern is the safety of his son." Chloe stood, briefcase in hand. "You'll be hearing from us, Mrs Winter. Good day."

*

Clint walked beside her as they left the office and walked down the building’s wide front steps.

"What now?" he asked.

"Now? We find a sympathetic judge. How much time off do you have?"

 

Clint took a deep breath and let the words out "I am on indefinite sympathetic leave. It's only half pay… but money isn't exactly an issue. Not at the moment any way."

They walked down the block Chloe leading and Clint following with no idea of their destination. 

"And have you given thought to what you are going to do when you get custody of your son?"

Clint felt a flood of gratitude at the absolute conviction in her tone, her utter belief that this was going to go in Clint's favor. 

"Coulson, my boss, and I talked. He said he had an idea that he was certain would pan out. He has to talk to the director, but there would be something for me there, that would take me out of the line of fire. I mean, I don't know what Coulson has in mind but obviously I can't keep doing things that take me out of town and even out of the country all the time, never mind the possibility of getting seriously injured or killed."

Chloe slowed her walk as Clint spoke and then abruptly pulled open the door to a small shop and nodded for Clint to follow. It was a diner. A real, honest to god diner, complete with stools fixed to the floor in front of a long counter and and booths along all the walls. 

She lead him to a booth on the back wall and let Clint take the seat facing the door.

"How long do you think it will take him to set this up?"

 

"Probably not long. He said he'd call later today."

 

"What do you think he has in mind?"

Clint huffed out a breath, not quite a sigh "My guess is that I would be work in some kind of instructional capacity. If not that, then I guess I'll be riding a desk." Clint said turning one of the mugs on the table upright and nodding at the waitress. He really needed coffee.

"You'd be willing to do that?"

Clint leaned in and said emphatically. "I will do anything I need to, to get custody of my son."

*

It took weeks to get from that moment to the one where Clint saw his son for the first time. There were claims made for proof of Clint's parentage, and petitions to the court for DNA testing, and then finally the actual DNA testing, all paid for by Clint, which took a couple of weeks from start to finish. The whole process was complicated by the fact that Niall's birth mother was dead, thus making DNA testing and proving parentage that much more difficult.

Clint tried not to think about that fact too much, that Nia was gone and had been for a long time. It inevitably happened though, usually at the end of the day when he was laying on the bed in the little two bedroom apartment he had rented, waiting for sleep to come. It wasn't just that he hadn't known she was dead, but also that she was no longer around to make the world better and brighter and softer.

He would think about her and the summer they had spent together. Enough time had passed since he'd discovered she was gone, for Clint to come to terms with the fact that he would never see her again, the small kernel of hope he'd carried through the hardest years of his life was gone. Clint tried hard not to have regrets, tried to hold the memory of that time. It was over though, she was gone. His son was not, and it was thoughts of Niall that the deepest, most sleepless part of his nights were occupied with.

Clint was a disciplined fighter and a man who could keep his eye on the long game, but sometimes late at night he couldn't help the desperation and fear that crept in. He didn't know what he would do if he lost Niall again.

Clint never meant to lose them both. He would never have left them if he hadn't been forced to by the state, and he suspected, Nia's father. The fact that Clint had lost the only people that mattered to him, was the trigger that made him fight his way out of his powerlessness as a ward of the state. In the end he had run away from his last foster home, and in order to stay free he had left Iowa entirely, thinking he would come back for them. In the end he had, but it’d simply been many years too late. 

So here he was, now, trying to get through a situation not at all of his making, fighting his way back to his son. Clint kept going all day, every day, doing everything he could to move the process, and some days doing nothing but waiting. 

He kept in touch with Coulson, speaking with his boss a couple of times a week at least to keep him apprised of the situation. It also had the effect of grounding Clint. Sometimes, after a long day when felt like they had made no progress he would talk to Coulson, tell him how things were going, and when he was done Clint always felt better.

Coulson never once even hinted that Clint should come back to New York and wait for things to happen from there. For that, Clint was deeply grateful. Grateful that Coulson (or Fury) never asked him to make the choice between his son and SHIELD. He knew their patience would not be endless and if this took long enough they would cut him loose. He was just grateful it hadn't happened yet and he desperately hoped it didn't happen until after he had custody of Niall.

That was the thing Clint held fast to through all the other doubts he battled late at night, alone in his temporary home. His conviction that he would be able to be a father to Niall in the end, that his son would not be forced to be a part of the same system Clint had grown up in. There had been some good people in that system when Clint was a boy but Clint wanted more for his son. He wanted him to have a home and security and to be loved. He wanted Niall to know who his birth mother was. Clint could give him all of that. He wanted the chance for both of them.

 

After the fourth week, when DNA testing had been completed and the match was close enough that the court was now considering Clint's status, Chloe invited Clint out for a meal. He had no doubt it was mostly business. He was proved right when he walked into the restaurant where they were to meet, and saw Gil Samson waiting at the table with his lawyer. It made little difference to the flutter of nervousness in his stomach, that they were both people that he considered friends by then. His first thought always seemed to be bad news.

Clint cut right to the chase as soon as he sat down, "What's up, guys?"

"I just wanted to run a couple of suggestions by you about what the next few weeks might look like. Nothing is wrong. Why don't we order and eat and we'll talk. Okay?" Chloe answered.

When the server came and the other two had settled on their choices, Clint ordered a burger he wasn't sure he even felt like eating now. Chloe had reassured him everything was okay but Clint could hardly help the twist of worry in his gut.

"So." Chloe began when they were mostly done eating "I take it you still have no plans to head back to New York any time soon?"

Clint looked up startled that they would be revisiting a subject he’d thought closed when he rented his apartment. "No. I’m not going anywhere until I have custody of Niall."

Gil smiled at that answer, but it was Chloe who responded. "You know that the next part of this process is likely going to take at least as long as the first stage?"

"Yeah I know that. Still not going anywhere."

"Well that's good to hear. But Clint? You’re getting restless and haven't got much to do on a day to day basis while you are waiting for lawyers to get things done. Aren't you getting bored?"

"Well, yeah? Kinda. I joined a gym?"

Gil laughed, but not unkindly. Clint smiled sheepishly at him, he knew it sounded a little dumb, it was the best answer he could come up with though.

"Well I have a proposal for you." Gil told him. "How would you like to go to work for me for the time being? Give you something to keep you busy while the proceedings move forward, bring in a little money; it'll look good in court; and I could use some help. "

"Doing what?" Clint asked, surprised at the offer. 

"Well, I guess that depends on how involved you want to get. At the very least I could use some help around the office looking through files, tracking down data leads."

"I uh- don't really know how to answer that." He turned to Chloe, wanting to know her opinion.

"It wouldn't hurt for you to have something to do, besides wait, and being gainfully employed always looks good in the eyes of the court."

"I already have a job, though."

"Which you are on leave from. Hence all your new found spare time."

"I- I think it's not a bad idea. I _could_ use something to do all day, although I wouldn’t have picked paperwork as my first choice." He grinned, laughing at the irony. "But. I uh- have to talk to my current boss. I have an agreement with my organization and I have no idea if moonlighting at an investigation agency would violate that." He looked out the window for a second, thinking about it, before he turned back to his dinner companions. "I appreciate the offer, Gil. And if my boss is cool with it, then I guess I'll take you up on it." Clint paused again and went on "I don't plan on staying here though. Iowa has too many hard memories for me and probably for Nial now too. We'll see about that in time. For now though, it sounds like a great idea. Just. I gotta talk to Coulson. Then I'll let you know."

 

Which was how Clint ended up doing data analysis for an investigation agency in Iowa. From day one, he hated it. Okay, maybe hate was too strong a word. He was grateful to have something to do, but holy fuck was it ever boring. Intense dislike was more accurate. Especially when he was stuck filling out 'after action' reports.

Coulson sounded like he was pissing himself laughing when Clint told him about that part, later on the phone.

 

The only real upside of the job was that he could work for an hour or two sometimes and not obsess about Niall being in a group home, or any of the miserable shit that could be happening to his kid. The other good point was that when Clint's head hit the pillow at night, he fell asleep almost instantly. 

*

The first time he saw Niall, not just a picture but his face, Clint could barely breathe. He stared so long Chloe elbowed him in the ribs. It hurt enough to snap him out of it and make Clint take a breath. 

He saw his son for the first time though half inch safety glass. It was old and a little distorted, that glass, but Clint saw clearly who he was looking at, recognized him. From the sharp blue eyes to the toe-head blond hair that stood up in crazy spikes in the back. His son was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen and the moment Clint had been working toward for weeks now was finally here. He could walk into a room and introduce himself and speak to his kid for the first time.

Clint had never been so fucking scared in his whole life. Facing down a room full of pissed off Chechen gangsters didn't make his stomach roll like this. Clint squared his shoulders and walked through the door.

The state worker, Mrs Oswald, who was sitting on the sofa beside Niall stood when he approached. "Mr Barton. So good to see you. Please, come. This is Niall. Niall this Clint Barton your birth father."

The boy looked up, not quite meeting his eyes. 

Clint took pity on him and spoke first "Hi Niall. Mind if I sit down?"

Niall looked down at his battered chucks. "I guess."

Clint pulled a chair up, swung it around backwards and sat down. The social worker nodded approvingly and moved a short distance away, giving them at least the illusion of privacy. Nial hunched into himself a little. He looked so small there, sitting on that sofa by himself. He radiated unhappiness. It made Clint wish they could have met any other way, but this.

"I'm really sorry about what happened to your family." 

Niall looked up at him finally making eye contact, surprise written on his face. "Thanks, I guess." he said, looking back down right away.

"It's hard to get used to a group home." Clint didn’t make it a question. 

"It's alright, I guess."

"Well, that's something then." Clint felt completely out of his depth. there was so much he wanted to say to Niall. So many things he had kept locked in the deepest parts of his heart, but it was unthinkable that he would dump all that bottled up feeling all over this boy who had lost his entire world and was still grieving for everyone he had loved.

Clint couldn't just sit in the too quiet room and stare at the walls either. He turned to Niall's worker and asked. "Is it okay if we get out of here or something? Go for a walk maybe? If it's okay with Niall?"

She nodded immediately

"What do you say Niall? Wanna get some fresh air?" Clint asked him gently.

"Yes please" he said, quietly.

Clint stood. "Well come on then."

They walked across the street from the office where Clint had come to meet his son, a dry industrial government building surrounded by well cared for green space that seemed like a decent enough place to stretch their legs or just get outside into the fresh air. 

Their government shadow stepped away to make a call, giving them distance but not leaving them alone.

Clint drifted toward a bench overlooking a small lake that was the focal point of the space. Niall followed along quietly. Clint had no idea if the boy even wanted to be here, he was giving so little away. Clint nodded toward the bench and they both sat.

"This must be pretty weird for you."

"Yes sir." Niall said.

That bugged Clint, being called sir by his kid. It made him think the kid was scared of him, the automatic respectful address seemed odd for someone so young.

"You could call me Clint."

Niall scowled a little. He looked puzzled. "Don't want me to call you dad?" There was an edge to his voice maybe sarcasm or bitterness.

"Well no. Not like I deserve it or anything. You don't even know me. But I- I like Clint better than 'sir'."

The boy nodded and looked away toward the water, once again silent.

Clint floundered a bit. He had no idea what he was doing here, but he understood the boy’s reticence, his stand-offishness. Clint was just some guy as far as Niall knew. He didn't imagine the boy had much to say to him.

They sat quietly for a few minutes before Niall spoke. "Are you really my birth father?" he asked, surprising Clint with his blunt question. 

Clint was more than happy to answer. "Yes, I am."

Niall looked at him, assessing. "How do you know?"

"Well we know who you your birth mother was. It's on your birth certificate."

"But how do you know YOU are my biological father?" 

Clint felt the challenge in the question push at him. He refused to push back against a confused kid trying to find his way through a mess of emotions and questions. He answered levelly."Your mother and I were in love. I knew about you the whole time she was pregnant. She was the first person I ever loved and I was the first person she ever loved. She told me about you before she told anyone else."

Niall looked away thinking, clearly deciding on his next question. "So why did I get adopted? Why do you want to be a 'father' now, when you didn't then? I mean you gave me up, so what changed?"

"I didn't." Clint said he couldn't help the rush of emotions Niall's assumptions brought up, but he made no effort to hide them. "I never gave you up. She didn't want to either." Clint closed his eyes and saw the dates on Nia's headstone as clearly as if he was looking at that cold black stone now.

Niall's snort of disbelief snapped him out of it "Yeah? So what happened then?"

Clint had to think about it for a moment, how much to tell his son about what had happened that summer and why. Honesty was always Clint's policy, he saw no reason to change that.

"What happened was simple. And kind of terrible. I was a fifteen year old foster kid with no family. Nia and I loved each other and we wanted you, but we were just a couple of dumb kids. The day before you were born I was pulled from my first truly successful foster home and moved all the way across the state. I never saw her again." his voice cracked at that and Clint had to stop a moment to collect himself. "I didn't find out until almost two years ago what had happened to her. I didn't find out what happened to you, that you'd been adopted, until thirteen months ago."

"Oh." Niall said quietly. He looked kind of shocked, as if he wasn't expecting to hear he had been wanted.

"We wanted you Niall, but we were both just kids and Nia's father didn't approve at all. Especially of me. But we wanted you."

"What happened to my- to - to her?"

Clint felt the squeeze to his heart at that question. He didn't want to think about it and he didn't want to be the one to tell Niall but he was always going to be honest with his son.  
"She died, a couple of days after you were born."

"And you didn't know?"

Clint shook his head. "I wrote to her but my letters got sent back. I couldn't phone her because I didn't know the number. No one had cell phones then so I would have had to phone her parents house. They would never have let me speak to her." Clint looked away, the next part was going to be hard to tell. "I always meant to come back, but I got into some trouble in my last foster home. I had to leave and I thought I was in a lot of trouble, so I got scared and left the state. I stayed gone. I didn't find out until I came back to Cedar Rapids last year. I was in the cemetery visiting my foster mother's grave. I saw Nia's headstone on the way back to my car." 

He couldn't help the way his voice got ragged at that. Clint had been back to the cemetery a few times while he was in Cedar Rapids but somehow the ache at visiting her grave never went away or even seemed to lessen. He tried really hard not to dwell on it too long. Clint had enough experience with grief to know it didn't get better if you focused on it. 

He looked over at Niall and the boys own recent grief was clearly reflected on his face. Shit. Clint hadn't meant to get him thinking about his own recent losses. 

"Hey." he said "I'm not a hundred percent on the rules, but I think we could probably get away with going for a burger if you wanted. Should we go ask Mrs Oswald if she wants to get lunch?"

Niall looked up fast, a clear flicker of hope on his face "Okay. You think she'll say yes?"

"Don't see why not. Let's go ask her. Maybe she even knows a good place. You eat burgers right?"

Yes, Niall ate burgers ( and fries and a milkshake and pie) Yes, Mrs. Oswald would love to go for lunch, and yes she knew a _great_ place.

And that's where they started, Clint and Niall.

*

It was harder, after that, to keep his head in the game. But there were still steps to be taken and hoops to jump through. The court had an entire process that Clint had to go through before he even had a chance to become Niall's legal guardian, and Clint tried to keep his eye on the prize as much as he could. It didn't take long, though, for his days to devolve into an endless stretch of the time between visits, until he could see his kid again. 

The steps needed to be taken until they got to the end of the process. It _was_ a process though and it was going to take however long as it was going to take. At least it meant he had a lot of time to get to know Niall. 

That got easier too after the court decided he was not going to abduct his own kid and run away. Eventually it was just him and Niall, going places, doing things, eating meals, and getting to know each other. Clint was _glad_ they had that time to get to know each other while they were still stuck in this limbo. 

It was mostly a lot of messing around, going to the movies and out to eat and going to the park, interspersed with questions (mostly from Niall) and answers (mostly from Clint). 

 

Some were easy to answer :

"Are you married?"

"Do you like dogs?"

"Who's your favorite super hero"

Some questions had hard or painful answers:

"Where are > _your_ parents?" 

"What's your job?"

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

Clint answered them all in as straight forward a way as he could. He might have stumbled a little when Niall asked him one day, a couple of weeks in, "Are you going to take me to live with you? In New York?"

That seemed like a pretty straight forward answer too. Clint was pretty damned surprised at the ball of fear those words created in his gut. He answered it the same way he had all the others.

"Eventually, if you like. Or we could move somewhere else. Or we could even stay here. Oh. Unless. Do you. Do you _want_ to come live with me? When the custody thing is all fixed?"

"Well. I thought." Niall got this line between his brows, the same one he got when he was puzzling something out. He looked just like Nia when it happened. "I thought I had to. If the judge gives me to you."

Clint sighed. He was going to be fucking devastated if Niall didn't want to live with him, but he would deal with it. He would deal with anything if it meant his son was going to be happy.

"Niall. You are not a houseplant, or. Or a puppy. No one is going to _give_ you to anyone. And you don't have to do anything you don't want to. If you don't want to come live with me? I'm not gonna lie, that will make me sad, but not as sad as making you do something that's going to make you miserable. You don't _have to_. You _can_ if you want, but in the end the choice is going to be yours"

"Oh" Niall blinked. "Well that's okay then. Can we go to that park across from your apartment after we eat?"

And just like that they’d moved on. Clint decided to let Niall process, while he kept his own questions about what Niall wanted to himself. He would find out eventually, no need to ruin the time they had right now worrying about it. 

At least not out loud. Clint was nothing if not good at keeping his worries to himself, and Niall didn't need Clint's baggage.

*  
"I don't think Niall wants to live with me." Clint told Coulson on the phone that night. He made no effort to hide how wrecked the thought left him. He was beyond hiding that kind of shit from Phil, not after all they had been through together since Cint had started the fight to gain custody of his son.

"Did he say that?" Coulson sounded sceptical.

"Not exactly. But..." 

"Clint.” Coulson’s tone was supportive, pulling him back. “What did he say?"

"He asked if I was going to take him to live with me in New York. He thought- he thought he had to let the judge "give" him to me. Like he's a piece of property or a puppy." The very idea that Niall though he had no choice bothered Clint almost as much as the thought that Niall wouldn't want to live with him after-. After.

"What did you tell him?"

"Well I told him he _wasn't_ a houseplant or a puppy and even though I wanted him, no one was going to make him do anything he really didn't want to."

"And you meant it." 

It wasn't phrased as a question.

"Well.. yeah. All I ever wanted was for him to be happy."

"Clint. Do you honestly think Niall would be happier in foster care?"

Clint hesitated a moment before answering "Probably not."

"Do you think he would choose that over living with you?"

"Well. I hope not? He might though." 

"Or, maybe," Coulson said, clearly trying to be reasonable "he just wanted to have a choice. Clint, you of all people can relate to how powerless he must be feeling right now."

"Yeah."

"He sounds like a really great kid. Smart."

"He is! He's smart and kind-hearted and tough without ever being a jerk. He's kind of amazing." Clint didn't bother trying to hide the pride in his voice.

"He _sounds_ like it. If those things are all true, then he has enough sense to realize what a great guy you are. Maybe he just needed to know he has a choice."

That actually made a lot of sense. The way Coulson said it made Clint feel better, without forcing him to get his hopes up. He was kind of scared to at this point. There was still a chance that Niall was going to say 'thanks, but no thanks'.

"Cross that bridge if you come to it" Coulson told him. That sounded like good advice to Clint.

*

Clint was finding a stride and getting through the days fairly well, when everything changed again.

"We have a court date."

Clint sighed. "Chloe we've already been to court _three_ times. What's it for this time?" He couldn't help the weariness in his tone at this point.

"The judge has agreed to hear your petition for custody. Dig up a suit, kid, the date is two weeks from today." And apparently Chloe couldn't help the smugness in her voice.

Clint didn't really hear the rest of the conversation. ‘Petition for custody’ kept running in a loop in his head, drowning out most everything else. He didn't know how long he sat there after ending his conversation with Chloe. Eventually he looked down at his phone.He didn't even _own_ a suit. 

Clint dialed a familiar number ."Hey boss. I, uh, need some help."

He had no idea what to wear to this particular hearing. It was so damned important and he mighty have to take the stand- He wanted to babble at Coulson for a few minutes but Coulson calmed him down, told him where to buy a decent suit and even what cut it should be. 

"Let your lawyer pick your tie" he told Clint. "If we left it to you, the damned thing would be _purple_ " He said purple the way he would say herpes and Clint was too fucking nervous/terrified/overwhelmed to notice until the conversation is over.

*

Court didn't really creep up on Clint, so much as leap out and scare the crap out of him. He’d been so worried about the outcome despite Chloe's insistence that all their ducks were in nice neat rows. 

He'd done everything she'd asked him to, signed every piece of paper and 'yes ma'amed' his way through every interview. But really he mostly concentrated on Niall. If he'd spent the last few weeks thinking about all the things that could go wrong when they finally appeared before the judge he would have driven himself crazy. Instead he'd concentrated on getting to know his son.

Until suddenly here he was, standing in front of a mirror trying to get his tie perfect, trying not to obsess about anything. One foot in front of the other; do what you need to do; deal with the things that were in your control. Don't think about what he was going to do if Niall told the judge he didn't want to live with Clint.

*

"Niall, are you comfortable?” The judge asked. “Feel like answering a few questions?".

"Yes sir." Niall said. Clint could see he was trying not to squirm where he sat, uneasy with being the center of attention.

"Well, my first question is, do you understand everything we have been talking about here today?"

"Yes sir. You all have been talking about whether or not Clint has the right to be my father. My _legal_ father." Niall looked at him for a second, and then turned back to the judge

"Yes, that's right. Do you have any questions about what we have discussed so far?"

"No sir. I think I understand everything. Clint proved he's my birth father and that he didn't ever sign anything that uh- _severed his parental rights_ , that he never gave me awa- up."

"That's right. Very good. I want you now to answer a few questions about how you feel about all this."

"Yes sir. Does that mean Clint might - uh. _I_ might get to live with him?" 

Just the way Niall phrased it sent a rush through Clint. He'd said 'get' to live with Clint, not 'have' to, and he sounded so hopeful. Clint had to admit he had been doing a crap job of not hoping too hard himself. 

"Well that’s a good question now, isn't it? Mr Barton, Clint, has a very good case. There is no doubt in my mind that he is, in fact, your father and there is no evidence that he severed his parental rights. What the court would like to know is, what do you think, Niall? How would you feel if your father was given custody of you?"

Everyone in the courtroom looked right at Niall. He didn't hesitate. "Yes sir, I would like that very much."

"Well, then. How would you feel about moving to New York, where Mr B- uh, Clint lives and works? How will you feel if you have to leave Iowa?"

Niall stole another quick look at Clint before addressing the judge "Iowa is a real good place to live. There’s lots to like. But." he paused and blinked a couple of times. Clint could see moisture in his son's eyes. He didn't let unshed tears stop him. "But there isn't much left here for me any more, is there? The place where I been staying is nice an all, but it ain't the same as having a family. If I went to New York with Clint, _him and me_ could be a family." He swallowed a little and squared his shoulders. "Can I? " he asked the judge. "Can I go live with Clint? He will be a good dad. He is already a good dad." He said it a little fiercely, and there was no doubt he meant it.

The judge looked at him closely and Clint couldn't help hold his breath for a second. 

"Yes of course you can. Thank you for talking with us Niall, and for answering our questions."

Niall smiled at the judge and settled back into his chair. 

Clint didn't hear anything beyond, "So ordered."

*

There was paperwork to sign. Of course. Lots of it. And they had to go to the group home and got Niall's things, his clothes and pictures and books. It was a meager collection. A couple of suitcases, a box of books and one more that was marked Stuff.

"You're already packed" Clint said, surprised.

"Well. I was hoping. I mean, I knew you wanted me. And I knew that judge was prolly gonna ask what I wanted." He looked down at his shoes for a second then looked up at Clint, smiling shyly "I was hoping."

"Me too." Clint felt a matching smile on his own face. It was everything he'd wanted. Now here it was waiting for him. Clint grabbed the boxes, Niall hefted a suitcase in each hand and they went out to the car.

4

They drove back to New York, later in the week. Clint took just enough time to wrap up business in Cedar Rapids. He handed over the keys to his apartment and threw his stuff in the back of the Le Mans, along with Niall's. They had dinner with Chloe and Gil to celebrate, and say thank you.

It still took three days to get ready to go. The last thing they did was stop at the cemetery. He and Niall put tulips on Nia's grave. Then Niall took Clint to meet his family.

He was very brave, Niall was. 

"Mom, Dad. Troy. This is Clint. He's my birth father. He- He's gonna be my Dad now. He's a good guy. He's- he's gonna take care of me for you-" Niall was brave, so brave and Clint was very proud of him. But even the bravest guy has to cry sometimes. Clint crouched down and put his arms around his son and held him until he was done. He didn't shush him or tell him it was okay. Clint knew that was all bullshit. It wasn't okay, it fucking sucked. Niall didn't need to be lied to, or shushed when he cried. He just needed someone to hold him. Clint could do that as long as Niall needed him to.

They left the flowers, and a picture of the two of them together that Chloe had taken the day Clint had won in court. They were both smiling widely.

Walking back to the car Niall asked "Are we gonna come back here? To see them?"

"If you want to, yeah."

 

Before they left, Coulson ever efficient, sent Clint an itinerary and a list of places to eat along their route. 

His email said

"I am sure you have enough to think about so I booked your accommodation along the way. Also here is a list of places to eat that I have been to personally, that I am reasonably certain aren't going to give you food poisoning. Let me know how things go along the way. See you in three days.

Phil"

Clint took a second or two to note the signature. Phil, not Coulson. Clint was grateful for the fact that Phil had moved into the role of friend without once mentioning it. This was sure as hell more than Coulson doing his job. Most of the time it felt like more than him being a really good friend. Clint had always known that Agent Coulson was a great handler. He'd known for months now that Phil was kind of an amazing guy.

When they bunked that night, after they had both eaten at one of Phil's excellent diners, and Niall was fast asleep, Clint stepped outside their room and pulled out his phone.

"Coulson." the man in question answered, brusque as ever.

"Hey boss."

"Clint! How's the drive? Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's good. We are at the Ho Jo's in Fort Wayne."

 

"How is Niall?" 

"He's doing okay. Tired. Wasn't a long drive. Thanks for that by the way. Well, thanks for all of this. I woulda just took my chances and started looking for a place when we started getting tired. This is lots better. " Clint paused, he wanted to make sure Coulson- Phil knew. "I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome. Besides, that's what friends are for."

There it was, the confirmation that Clint needed, no matter how stupid it sounded to need that. Friends. Clint had a few of those, but not enough to take any of them for granted. 

 

"Where did you guys stop and eat?" Phil asked.

They talked about the meatloaf and mashed potatoes at the diner for a minute. Then they touched base about work, Phil letting him in on Jasper's foray into the wrangling of new recruits and Sitwell's wish to never go there again. Clint signed off with " G'night Phil" after a while. 

He still needed to call Tasha, and Phil no doubt still had work to do. Besides Clint and Niall planning on getting an early start. Tomorrow would be their longest driving day. Clint wanted to get a lot of miles behind them, before they stopped for the night. That way they would still get in to New York the day after that with plenty of time to get them both settled in before it got too late.

"Hey, Tasha."

"Clint. How was the road?"

"Not bad."

"And the boy?"

"Sleeping."

"Good. Everything okay?"

"Yep. We should be back the day after tomorrow."

"Good."

"I'll call you tomorrow when we stop."

"Yes."

And just like that he was done for the night. He could crawl into his rented bed, and sleep away the road and start a brand new day tomorrow.

Clint lay on his side in bed for over an hour, watching his son sleep. He wondered as he drifted off to sleep if ,the awe he felt looking at his kid’s beautiful sleeping face would ever wear off.

5

They got into New York right on time, two of days later, just as the sun dipped below the horizon and Niall's stomach started to growl. Clint was fairly certain his boy didn't notice anything except the spread and rise of the city around them, if his wide eyes were anything to go by. Clint kept sneaking looks at Niall as he wound his way through traffic.

Instead of taking the car back to storage Clint pulled up in front of his-their- building just as the sky was darkening. He would take his chances, leaving the car on the street; Niall did not need the couple of hours it would take to park the car at storage and then cab back here, added to his day.

"Is this h- where you live? Where we live?" Niall asked, his voice full of uncertainty. Clint hated how small the boys voice sounded. He hoped there was a day coming soon for Niall where he knew what his days and his life would hold, without even thinking about it. 

"Yup. This is home. Let's go up and get settled in. We can get pizza."

"Pizza? We already had that twice this week!" Niall bitched, as he opened his door.

Clint laughed. "You haven't _had_ pizza 'til you've had a New York slice, kid!"

Clint had forgotten how lame his apartment was, in the months he'd been gone. He slipped the key in the door, cringing a little. He wished he'd put more planning into their arrival. The place where he'd spent his time in New York was okay for him, but it wasn't what he wanted for his kid. 

Nothing he could do about it now. Before he even flicked the light on, he was making plans to make the place fit for a kid to live in. So imagine his surprise when he opened the door and walked into a freshly cleaned apartment that’d been almost barren when he left, but now actually looked like someone lived here instead of the way station between ops it really was, or had been. There was a dining table and chairs. There were curtains and a brand new TV. There were _houseplants_ for fucks sake. 

Clint walked in, kicking his boots off without thinking, not wanting to dirty up the clean floor. Fuck this place looked great! There was a short list of people (two) who could have done this and Clint was betting it wasn't the redhead who was responsible. He loved her but this was definitely NOT Tasha's MO. The cutesy little rug in the middle of the living room… area.. thing. This had Phil Coulson's stamp all over it. In fact it was identical to the one in his office. It looked great. 

"Where do I put my stuff?" Niall said from behind him, snapping Clint out of gawking at his own home like an idiot.

While Niall was still untying his shoes, Clint opened the door to the second bedroom and peaked inside, on the chance that Coulson had got there before him. When he'd left, it was home to Clint's spare gear, a bow rack, a gun safe, an over-filled bookshelf and a bicycle he never rode. Now it was a perfectly put together bedroom with a comfy looking bed, a dresser and a kid sized desk. The Captain America poster on the wall told him everything he needed to know about who was responsible.

"In here." He must have been a lot more tired than he thought, because his voice cracked as he pushed the door wide for Niall to see.

"Aw cool! There's a Cap poster! Is that for me? That's so cool Clint, Dad!" Niall chucked his suitcase on the bed and hopped over to have a look.

Shit. Coulson was gonna be so smug when he found out about this, that Cap poster and Niall calling him _Dad_. Clint decided he was gonna let Coulson be as smug as he liked.

"I'm gonna go order us food. Bathrooms there." Clint pointed "You got about a half hour before food’s here."

"K. Hey Clint?"

"Yeah." 

"Thanks."

Clint couldn't resist ruffling Niall's already messy hair. "No prob kid"

 

Clint chucked his duffel onto his (freshly made) bed and headed for the land line in the kitchen. He didn't notice the note on the fridge until after he'd ordered pizza and hung up the phone.

'Clint  
I took the liberty of hiring a cleaning crew, I hope you don't mind. I thought you probably had enough to think about this week already. The receipts for everything are in the envelope on the table. I also took the liberty of stocking a few basic fresh foods and some kid-friendly things in the pantry. Let me know when you get in .  
Phil '

Clint opened the fridge, clutching the note. It was _full_. Eggs and bacon, milk and fruit and lettuce. Peanut butter and three kinds of jam, and sandwich meat and cheese. There was more food in there at the moment than had been in it in the entire time Clint had lived here combined. There was whole wheat bread on the counter and when Clint opened a random cupboard, it was full of canned food and cereal and pasta and rice.  
,  
Clint had left an empty apartment he kind of hated spending time in, and had used mostly as a crash pad since he'd rented it. He came back to what passed for a home. He had no idea how he was ever going to thank Phil enough.

He picked up the phone again and dialed the number he knew by heart.

"Hey."

"Clint! Are you home?" Clint knew damned well he wasn't imagining the hope he heard in Phil's voice. He felt an uprush of the same emotion himself at what that meant.

'Yeah. We're home."

"How's Niall?"

"He's in his room drooling over the Captain America poster on the wall. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

There was a moment of dead silence followed by a laugh Clint had rarely heard. He liked the sound a lot.

"Sorry?"

"Not sure I believe that" Clint teased.

"Well no, not really." Phil said, still laughing.

Clint swallowed then said, "Phil. Thanks for doing this. I never even thought of it. I was so intent on getting him here I-. I never thought of any of this." He felt like a dumbass admitting it out loud.

"Hey, it was my pleasure really. I was happy to be able to actually do something for a change. Something physical to really help. Instead of just giving you pep talks on the phone from a thousand miles away."

"Hey don't sell those pep talks short man. Some days they were all I had to hang on to."

"Still." Phil said "It was nice to have something to _do_ anyway."

Clint heard a door close and footsteps approaching. "Wanna come over tomorrow and meet my kid?" he asked hoping (guessing, knowing) the answer would be yes.

Phil didn't answer right away "I. I wouldn't want to intrude, Clint."

"The last thing you would be doing is intruding. Come over, have a meal with us. Give me a chance to say thanks to your face."

"If you're sure."

 

"Very sure. It's still the weekend right? You have the day off?"

"Yeah I do."

"Well come have lunch with us."

"Okay. I guess I'll see you guys around noon?"

"Great." Clint heard the doorbell ring "Look I gotta go. Dinner’s here. See you tomorrow, right?"

"Yes. Tomorrow. Good night, Clint. "

"Night, Phil."

Clint grabbed his wallet and headed for the door.

"Who were you talking to?" Niall asked when Clint turned toward the table, arms loaded down with pizza.

"On the phone? That was my friend Phil. He's the guy who gave you the Captain America poster."

"How'd he know I liked Captain America?" Niall said, peeking into one of the pizza boxes.

Clint laughed. "I don't think it was so much him knowing you liked Captain America, as much as it was him taking the opportunity to corrupt my kid. Phil is a _huge_ Cap fan. Come and help me get plates and … stuff."

"We always ate outta the box before" Niall pointed out, following him into the kitchen.

"Well we're home now. Gotta eat like civilized people." Clint said, handing him a can of soda and a plate. It maybe wasn't all that civilized, but it was as close as they were getting after three days on the road and no shower yet.

"Do we gotta sit at the table and everything?" Niall asked looking longingly at the obscenely huge TV that had showed up in the apartment in Clint's absence.

Clint sighed. "I guess not." He grabbed the pizza boxes and headed for the sofa. "Let's see what's on."

Clint had no idea what _would_ be on, he'd only ever watched like two shows and they were about snipers. He was happily surprised when he turned it on using a remote he found on the table and a program guide showed up on the screen. Okay this was already better than his crappy old thrift store set. 

"Hey look! Dog cops!" Niall called out, happily.

Clint groaned. Dog Cops? It only took Clint ten minutes to decide the show wasn't so bad and that everything was gonna look way better on a TV the size of his sofa.

That night, when it was completely dark outside, and the pizza was gone, Clint lifted his sleeping child gently from the sofa and carried him into his new room. Clint left the door open a little because Niall still had trouble sleeping soundly and Clint wanted to be able to hear of he woke up.

He stood in the door for a few minutes watching Niall sleep, before going to bed himself. Clint Barton slept as soundly as he could ever remember doing. 

He woke up the next morning and his first thought was gratitude for the life he was waking up to. Family, child, home.

**Author's Note:**

> Artwork for this story, by mella68, can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2610479)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for "If I could be a worthy man" by jesseofthenorth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2610479) by [mella68](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mella68/pseuds/mella68)




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